Beauty is the Mistress, the Gardener Her Slave
by DreamWriterA
Summary: But I cannot help but wonder if I made the right choice. Should I have died then, instead of lived? Could I have saved him if I hadn’t chosen this path? Could we both have lived and still be able to hold one another? Yes, I still wonder.
1. Prologe

Prologue

There are so many things in this world I do not understand, like time: how it moves so quickly and yet painstakingly slowly, how one blissful moment can last an instant when those moments that blossom into horrible nightmares seem eternal. Another is love. How can so many feelings happen at one time and yet only have one name? Why is love so painful and yet we cherish it above all other things? Why do we long for what breaks us?

I still do not fully understand how I came to be this way, stuck in this one form forever. I was never warned, only praised for my power and promised infinite blessings for using it to benefit others. And yet, here I am, part of all that surrounds me, exactly how I had always fought against being, all that I had never wanted to be: alone.

Oh, Lord, when did my life begin to depress me so? You have blessed me with many gifts! I see the sun rise each morning and each day bask in his rays. I am healthy, and strong, and my face is not yet wrinkled. I live in a quiet peace with those that surround me, protected from the world I so recently left behind. And I have been loved greatly by the only man I have ever wanted.

I will watch my children grow up around me, and their children, too. I will witness many generations of my kin grow, and I will love them all with the love that I have been blessed with. My memories of the only one who loved me, and the love I will have for my children will keep me alive forever.

But I cannot help but wonder if I made the right choice. Should I have died then, instead of lived? Could I have saved him if I hadn't chosen this path? Could we both have lived and still be able to hold one another? Yes, I still wonder. If you will listen to what I would tell you, you may decide for yourself, but I am cursed with and eternal "What if?" But I am immortal, now, like my lover's memory, and I promise all will know our story.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One 

"Stop that," I said playfully to the willow, who had been sneakily trying to tangle my long brown locks, "I don't want to spend an extra hour tonight brushing leaves out of my hair." The willow, Fulk, retracted his branches, his leaves quivering from suppressed laughter. I smiled at him and patted his trunk; he was a nice old tree, all wrinkly in the face. He was always the first to cheer me up, quick to tease the sorrow right out of me.

I think it was soon after my parents died that I started talking to the trees. I admired the strength they displayed, when they, too, lost kin to the fire that raged through the forest that year. It was that fire that killed my parents -they were forest rangers – while they were out on patrol. Some stupid camper left embers smoldering when a summer wind picked up. The carelessness of one person killed my parents, four firefighters, and destroyed hundreds of acres of forestland.

But there is a blessing in every tragedy; I have a new family: my aunt, Carolyn (Care), whom I live with and cherish above all others, and the Ancients, a group of trees centuries old, who I owe more to than they'll ever know. It was their strength and love that got me through the loss of my parents, and everyday remind me that I am still loved.

My aunt and I live in one of the ranger cabins scattered throughout Sager National Forest, and I go to a public high school a few miles away from it. I drive a jeep into town every school day, taking the dirt road through the woods leading to the highway that takes me to school, stopping after class to pick up groceries, books from the county library, and sometimes a movie from the local rental shop.

But my favorite thing to do is visit the Ancients. Whenever I have free time, I'll take a walk, alone, down to the grove where they all "hang out". I know trees aren't supposed to move, but I swear that their moss isn't always on the North side. The Ancients are an eclectic array of trees, most of which I had never seen anywhere else in the forest. Birch, willow, pine, maple, cedar, and many others. But they had lived for decades, perhaps centuries, in that forest – who am I to question if there had been others? I'd spend all day there sometimes, talking, or just listening. Please don't tell me I'm crazy, I know trees aren't known to talk either, but I've questioned my own sanity enough.

"Allah," I said, giggling, "Tell your silly husband to stop bothering me." I batted at the leafy end of one of Fulk's branches as it was busily tickling me.

Fulk whipped the sneaking tendril from away my neck. "I wasn't doing anything, Allah," he said with a smile. She swatted at him playfully as his branches groaned in a shrug, "Honestly."

"Quit making trouble or she'll stop visiting," replied his wife. Allah was a beautiful willow tree, with yellow-green leaves and long, wispy branches. Fulk teased his wife as much as he did me; they were the grandparents I had never had. They shared so much love between the two of them, and yet had always had enough for me.

"Ah, Allah, I couldn't keep myself away. This is the only place in the woods without gnats," I teased. I grinned and ducked underneath her canopy. A soft blanket of moss grew out from where she sat, and many of my afternoons were spent in lazy bliss beneath her branches. Usually, Allah would tell me stories of times past, but today I had brought a book. I curled up in snug tangles of her exposed roots, leaned against her strong, comforting trunk, and let the words and the smell of the pages spill over me.

&

"Allah! How long did you let me sleep?" I complained as I stretched. Allah would never let her roots give me anything but cradled comfort -certainly not muscle cramps; I only stretched out leftover laziness. It was mid-afternoon by the length of her shadow, and I had yet to visit the others. "I'm taking a walk along the creek; I'll wander back over before I leave, OK?"

"Yes, OK, sure," she replied sleepily. I stood and stepped out of the curtain of her leaves. Fulk lifted a tender branch to my cheek as I was leaving, but remained silent. I smiled and followed the creek to see the others.

"Sophie! You lazy ass! I heard you decided to snooze before coming to see me! I'm completely devastated!" a playful male voice called.

"Trek! I knew I smelled something rotten!" I ran up to the handsome oak and embraced him. "I've had a long week and missed you something awful. How is my favorite man?" With his encouragement, I climbed up into his bows for a chat; I've spent every visit with him high up in the safety of his strong limbs. Usually, we have long, deep conversations about nothing in particular, while he strokes my hair with soft, leafy tendrils, or we do not talk at all, while he strokes my hair. He was doing it now, "What is your obsession with my hair?" I asked him.

"Well, I like it, but I touch it because you want me to," he answered, "It relaxes you, I can feel that easily. I can tell that you like it."

We have a lot of moments like this, where he never quite says what he means. But I know he wishes I were a tree, or he a man. I never tell him about the boys at school, not that there is much to tell, but I am not quite sure he understands about the world outside of the Grove. "I do like it," I said absentmindedly, because I did.

I sat up suddenly. Something was near the Grove. I couldn't tell if it was harmless or not, but I could feel it was something completely new. "Trek," I said.

"What?" his voice was mellow and lazy.

I looked outside of the Grove at the trees beyond. These trees didn't always speak, mostly I only sensed their general feelings. Tucked away on the top branch of an old maple, was a brown spotted owl. I pointed warily to the newcomer, who had something clasped in his talons, "Is that an _envelope_?"


	3. Chapter 2

"I'm back!" I yelled as I entered the cabin, taking my shoes off by the door. I figured my aunt was outside, 'cause she didn't answer. I found her on the back deck, elbow deep in the herb garden. "I'm back," I said, and handed her a glass of iced tea I had grabbed on my way outside. My aunt Care looks nothing like me. She is fair-skinned with curly auburn hair and hazel eyes, has a narrow face and high cheek bones; I have bronze-colored skin, with fluffy brown hair that is most often curly (just add water), bright green eyes (which I love), and dimples (which I don't). I am pretty, but I do not flaunt it.

"Thanks." She wiped her forehead on the back of her glove, leaving a slight earthy smudge where the sweat used to be, and took a long swig of the tea, "I could really use some help out here."

"Did Rick drop off our mail today?" Rick is one of the forest rangers in our region. He tries to find excuses to come over a lot, like to shovel snow off our deck, trim the trees in our front yard, and drop off our mail – I think he has a thing for my aunt. Not that I don't appreciate his _enthusiasm_, I mean, he drives right by our mailbox everyday. It's summer break now, and I don't like to drive into town that often.

"Yeah, it's on the counter," she answered, and picked up her trowel again, "I haven't looked at it yet, so if there's a really big envelop from Publishers Clearing House, let me know." She smiled and returned to weeding.

"I'll go take a look at it, I'm should be getting a letter back from Caprice about the audition," I said, "I'll come help you when I'm done, ok?"

"Oh! Sophie, you have a phone message from Tiff. She called an hour or so ago, and she wants you to call her at home." Tiff (Tiffany Rooste) is my best friend, aside from Trek, but I've known Tiff for many scars longer.

That's an inside joke of ours, measuring friendship by the adventure scars. I have a scar on my elbow –it's not that big, but I mean, you can see it if you look, I don't need to point it out- from playing pirates with some of her neighbor boys. They chased us up into a tree (our crow's nest), and I ended up falling out of it. But I turned out all right in the end; one of the boys gave me one of those sloppy "this will fix it" kisses. We were both seven (the boy and I), and we never spoke of it again.

And there's another on my palm from when we had to dissect frogs in junior high; like Tiff, I was totally against it, and in my very animated "discussion" about cruelty to animals with the teacher, sliced my hand open with a scalpel. I was excused from the assignment, which basically means I was dragged off to the hospital instead, with Tiff in tow. She was so proud.

I dialed Tiff's number as I sorted through the mail. I had applied for an audition to Caprice School for the Arts (CSA) a few weeks ago, and was anticipating their response.

Tiff picked up, "Hello?"

"Hey Tiff, what's going on?" I asked her, "Care said you'd called." Tiff started into who got caught at what party, who had been incarcerated lately, and then –what a surprise- moved on to chatter about her latest boyfriend, incidentally the guy who kissed me after I fell out of the tree. I kept shuffling through the mail, only half-listening (the stuff about her boyfriend is always the same anyway), and found one addressed to Miss Sophie Athena Prewett, and smiled at the sight of my middle name in print (my mom had a thing for Greek mythology). I let out a gasp of excitement and tore open the letter.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be awesome!" Tiff said. She had just gotten to the part about how she had convinced him to sneak out to go toilet paper the mayor's house.

"Oh my God, Tiff, guess what I just got. Listen to this: Dear Miss Prewett, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at-" I stopped, this wasn't my letter from CSA. This was a joke. "Tiff, did you do this?"

"Did I do what?" She asked innocently - her motto was, "Never confess to anything they don't know about yet."

"This letter. It's seriously hilarious. Takes the edge off, you know, waiting for CSA's response. Wow, Tiff, I didn't know you were this creative, you've really outdone yourself!" I ignored her feigned defenses and read out loud, "Dear Miss Prewett, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-"

Crash! I jerked my head around towards the noise; my aunt stood in the kitchen doorway, her face pale, with a shattered glass of iced tea at her feet. She looked sick. "Tiff, I'll call you back," I said, and dropped the receiver.

I reached out to my aunt as she gripped the kitchen counter for support. "Aunt Care, are you okay? What happened?" I helped her sit down at the bar, and when she motioned for a drink (I made to get her some water and she said, "No, please, I need a glass of wine!"), I quickly poured her one.

She took a sip, and another, and the quake in her hands lessoned a bit. "Let me see that letter," she said quietly. I handed it over. Her eyes darted over the page, reading and re-reading the words. I asked her what was wrong; she didn't answer, only took a large gulp of the wine and put the letter down onto the counter.

I was getting a little anxious at her silence. What was wrong? "Sit down Sophie," she said quietly, "I've got a lot to tell you."


	4. Chapter 3

I sat at the kitchen table, still in shock over the events of the last few hours. I ran my hands through my hair for the umpteenth time, and thought, "This isn't happening."

I had just spent the afternoon discussing my, err, _interesting_ past, and promisingly even more bizarre future. Using many words and phrases that I had no previous use for (witch, wizard, magic), and many I had never even heard before (muggle, Hogwarts, and Ministry of Magic), my aunt explained to me why exactly I can speak to trees, bushes, flowers, and every other plant around (though she doesn't know I can): I am a witch.

I, of course, had many questions, and interjected them into the conversation at will; this policy of constant interruption not only irritated my aunt to the point of her third glass of wine, but also slowed the flow of information so dramatically as to take the whole afternoon and part of the evening to disperse it. "So, this place, Hogwarts, is a school for-"

"Witches and wizards," my aunt finished.

"And my parents, were they?" They weren't, she told me. My family hadn't seen any magic for four generations; everyone was shocked -and pleased- to find out I had it. And I had it _bad._ When my parents first brought me home, the house came _alive_ -all the boards sprouted roots, branches, leaves, and we barely escaped before the whole thing destroyed itself.

"But Care, I don't have magic _now,_" I thought about the Grove, and Allah, Fulk, Trek, and the others, and knew I was kidding myself. _At least now we know I'm not insane_, I thought. But I hadn't ever told my aunt about the Grove, and I decided not to bring it up.

"Well, you were not supposed to find out about magic, Soph. And you definitely were _never_ supposed to go to Hogwarts. I don't even know how they found out about you -your parents had your powers bound right after you destroyed the house. You had too much magic for a family of muggles to raise -you were a danger to yourself and to those who loved you. And we couldn't give you up then, certainly not when most wizards spend the seven later years of their adolescence at school – we'd never see you! Anyway, who'd be the wiser if your parents raised you as a muggle?"

I asked her how I could have my powers now, when I couldn't use them while growing up? How could my parents have bound my powers when they had none of their own? Where are these people with magic – witches, wizards? Do they work? Do we know any? My aunt shook her head after this string of questions; she didn't know. "I'm only allowed to know so much about your world, about magic, and honey, that suits me just fine. Your kind, your people," (Unknowingly, I frowned at the phrase _your people_) "Are everywhere. I don't know any, or maybe I do. But that's the point, isn't it? We just aren't allowed to know."

She explained what she knew about the Ministry of Magic (yeah, unbelievable, I know) when I asked how muggles didn't know about wizards. She continued, excitedly, possibly from the wine, "But you'll have all the answers you want soon, Hogwarts is filled with knowledgeable and talented people—"

"But what about CSA? I've wanted to go there for years, and I only have two more years to prepare before I audition for Juilliard-"

"Honey, Juilliard…well, I know it was your dream-"

"_Is_ my dream," I argued.

"Is," she said quietly. "But now that you have magic, it's only a matter of time before it gets out of control. You have to go to Hogwarts for you own safety! Maybe there will be time for Juilliard after Hogwarts?"

But she and I both knew that if I decided to attend Hogwarts, there would be no Caprice, and there would be no Juilliard. To attend a school of magic was a one-way trip, I would have to disown my old life, my old _muggle_ life. "But you said that the students are admitted at age eleven. I'm sixteen. How is that supposed to work?"

"I don't know, Sophie," she answered, "Maybe you can talk to the Headmaster about arranging for private tutoring?"

_Headmaster? _"Headmaster? Like, private school?" She stared at me blankly. _Oh, no. _"Boarding school? I can't go to boarding school!" What about Tiff, and all my other friends? What about Aunt Care?

My stomach fell - what about the Grove? What about Trek?

"Honey, you'd be staying at Caprice, anyway," my aunt offered. But CSA was only two hours away -it was like not leaving at all. I mean, I'd still have my laptop, and my cell phone at CSA, but Care made it seem like wizards don't even use electricity! How was I supposed to talk to Tiff? I can't function without my best friend!

"How often will I be able to come home?" I asked dejectedly.

"Well, honey," she started, "That's just it. You know I don't have a lot of money, and plane tickets cost quite a bit, especially transatlantic flights—"

"Transatlantic? You don't mean -where exactly is Hogwarts?" Please, don't say it. Please, don't say it, I thought desperately. She didn't mean "transatlantic," she was just –a Freudian slip, yeah. Of course Hogwarts is in the States.

&&&

"And then she said, 'Hogwarts is in Europe,'" I told Trek mutely. Sometimes, when I'm tired, or just don't feel like talking, I'll mind-speak with some of the Ancients in the Grove. It was late, and I was depressed; Trek was my comfort. After I disclosed the location of the school I was to attend this fall, to my surprise I had little else to say. Shock, I guess.

We were both silent for a long time before I said, "So, this is magic? Us talking?" I paused for a moment, "You knew it long before I did, didn't you?" His silence was an obvious "yes".

After a few more minutes of labored silence, Trek spoke, "Everyone knew you had powers, we were there when they were bound. But I did not know you would have to leave when you got them back."

"Do you know why I got them back?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, but I am not allowed to tell you," he replied.

"Why aren't you?" I asked, puzzled. _Who has power over the Ancients?_

Trek spoke somberly, "I am not allowed to tell you that either." We were both silent once again. The night was edging close, a few fireflies were about, sparkling in the twilight. I lied back against Trek's strong trunk, cradled in his comforting bows, and gazed up at the early night sky. There were a few stars out already.

My companion broke my meditation, "Sophie?"

"Yeah?" I answered sleepily.

His mind-voice was very quiet, "Do you want to leave?"

"No!" I exclaimed, "How could you even question me? I love it here. I love the Grove." And I did. As much as I may have wanted to study magic, the thought of leaving this place might certainly be enough to forgo the whole adventure.

I could feel Trek's branches stiffen a little before he spoke. "Do you love me?"

I knew this was coming. I knew he loved me. I did not understand why, but I am not a tree. "Trek, you are my greatest friend. Of course I love you."

"But…" Trek offered sadly.

I sighed. "But we are too different for us to share the same love." This hurt Trek, I knew, and it hurt me, too. I didn't want to leave him like this, but it was time to say goodnight. Silently, I planted an innocent kiss on his trunk, descended to the ground, and followed the well-trodden path back to the cabin.


	5. Chapter 4

The day after I sent a response to Hogwarts I received a letter from Caprice. "Dear Miss Prewett, congratulations on your approved application to Caprice School of the Arts. You are an exceptional young lady and the committee is looking forward to hearing your solo piece for audition on August 12th…" These words, which, under any other circumstances would have made me scream in excitement, were hollow and doubly pointless now, and I had felt empty reading them.

That part of my life was over; the years I spent in private study, the hundreds of voice lessons that I poured my soul into, and the countless performances during which I could have spent my last breath. Magic was my life now, and my duty was to study for my safety and that of those who love me.

That feeling of near-patriotism carried me through each day until I received another letter from Hogwarts:

Dear Miss Prewett,

We have received your response and strongly encourage you to arrive in London on the first of August, one month before the start of fall term. Our escorts will meet you at the terminal and accommodations will be provided until the term begins. We have take care of all necessary monetary arrangements.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagal,

_Deputy Headmistress. _

_Click!_ I sat on my suitcase and snapped the lid shut. Today was July 31, and I was leaving for the airport tomorrow morning at four-thirty. After my luggage was packed into the bed of my aunt's old truck, I headed out to the grove. As I walked, I thought about the conversation I had had with Tiff about leaving for Hogwarts: I had lied and said I was going to Caprice. Of course, I also had to explain that "Caprice" did not allow students cell phones or the use of computers for email, or instant messaging, so we could only communicate through mail.

"You're kidding, right?" Tiff asked skeptically.

"They've never sent me an email," I offered, "Just letters." I was feeling horribly guilty by then; my aunt had forbidden me to tell anyone about Hogwarts, yet, Tiff was my best friend. The strain was awful. "Tiff, they just want their students to focus on their studies."

"Still, it sounds weird. How can they be that uptight? It is so, old-fashioned. I mean, who writes letters anyway?" We were both at Tiff's house, upstairs in the loft. Tiff was flipping through one of her magazines (probably _Cosmo_) and stumbled onto yet another steamy picture of a hot guy sans shirt. She pointed him out to me, "Wonder if Caprice has guys like that?" We both laughed. "I'll miss moments like this the most while you're away." I nodded in agreement.

A sudden stillness settled around us as our laughter trickled away. I could never keep secrets from Tiff. "Soph, I know you aren't being completely honest with me. But, whatever you're hiding, I mean, if you're scared about going away to school for the last two years of high school, I totally understand. But—"

"Uh, Tiff," I interrupted, "I probably should go home, cause Care wants me to—"

Tiff grabbed my arm as I stood to leave. "But if it's something else, something serious," she stared at me, searching my face for clues, "You know you can tell me, right?" I nodded, and left her alone in the loft.

I had said my final goodbye to Tiff an hour or so ago over the phone; we both promised to write, and I hope we both meant it. I felt like I was giving up a lifelong friend, and in a way, I knew I was. My life would soon be centered around magic, perhaps there would be no time for old friends. Old, _muggle_ friends.

Fighting back tears with fruitless effort, I shuffled down the path to the Grove. "Allah," I cried out to the beautiful Ancient, "I can't do it! I don't want to go."

She pulled me under her canopy with an embrace of wispy branches. "Shh, darling. I know this is hard—"

"Hard?" I said bitterly, "I'm flying to Europe tomorrow morning, and I won't be home for a year! I have to leave everything I know, and everyone I love behind!" I was sobbing uncontrollably by then, "I can't leave you. It would be like losing my family again." I was overwhelmed with emotions at that point: despair at leaving my family behind for almost a year, fear and anxiety at the thought of being immersed into an entirely new culture, and guilt, because a part of me wanted to learn and love magic, to be a part of that culture, to embrace and conquer the power that connected me to the Ancients.

"Shh, my darling, do not despair," Allah cooed, "You are strong, intelligent, and brave. You will do well at school." Fulk reached with his long branches and curled his tendrils around me while his wife continued, "There is so much beauty and knowledge in this world just waiting for you to discover it. Do not let those who love you keep you from such an opportunity."

I sniffed, and Fulk reached to wipe away a stray tear on my cheek, "No matter how much distance there is between us, we are still with you."

We said our goodbyes and I slipped off to Trek. Our last few encounters had been pleasant, if slightly strained. The awkwardness about his feelings for me had always been lurking on the edges of our conversations, but had never completely exposed itself. I felt that this time apart would be beneficial for both of us.

"Hello Sophie," Trek said as I clambered gracefully into his bows.

"Hi," I answered. I could feel the stiffness hanging in the air, both of us pretending to be stronger than we were.

"Sophie, there are a lot of things I want to say to you, some of which I am not allowed to say, and most of which I know you are not ready to hear. I hope that when you are ready, you will know what to ask, and I will know what to say." He was silent for a few moments, and I noticed he did not touch my hair, "I have something for you."

A necklace fell from the branches above my head and landed in my outstretched hands. It was one of Trek's acorns encased in hardened amber-colored sap, and strung on a glossy green vine. "Oh," I cooed, "It is so beautiful." The piece felt warm in my hand; I pulled the cord over my neck, "Thank you, Trek."

It was nearing dark and time for me to leave. Tears stung my eyes and trickled down my cheeks as I thought of all I was leaving behind. How could I possibly fare without my family? I wrapped my arms around Trek as soon as my feet graced the ground below him. "I'll miss you, Trek, so much," I said sadly. I waited for him to speak, but when he didn't, I slowly began my course back to the cabin. When I was almost out of his sight, I heard him sigh.

"Goodbye Sophie."


	6. Chapter 5

"Knock it off, Fred," I said to him as the amused redhead levitated the book I had just reached for, "I'm trying to read."

"Hey George," he said to his twin, "I think there is another set of twins at the Burrow, what with our cousin's love affair with books being so akin to that of Hermione's." They laughed, and I tried desperately hard not to join them. It was my third week at the Burrow, and the Weasleys had wasted no time in making me feel like family. We were, after all, related -Prewett, my name, is also my cousin Molly's maiden name.

The first few weeks at the Burrow were a little, okay, _extremely_ overwhelming. With everything that living with pureblood wizards entailed: Apparition, levitating cookware, flying broomsticks, magic clocks, and the conversations between my magical relatives, I was almost out of my mind with bewilderment and curiosity. It was too much for me to handle, until Hermione arrived.

Hermione is a saint, I swear. On top of being friendly, _and_ polite, _and_ brilliant, she sat me down and explained everything she knew about the Wizarding world. Well, I'm sure she didn't tell me _everything_, I mean, there would never be enough time, but she had all of her old school books from her first five years sent to the Burrow for me to study. But the best part was just having someone around who wasn't born into this chaos –this _wonderful _chaos- besides me. It amazes me that someone born to muggles could be so brilliant in this field; it gave me hope for my future as a witch.

"Seriously, I'm trying to study," I said, a little annoyed, but mostly amused. My cousins were, spirited, to say the least. They treated me like a sister, as did all Molly and Arthur's children; it felt wonderful to have siblings and be a part of such a kind and generous family.

"Judging by the ink on your nose from studying your notes, we reckon it's time for a break," George said. "Come downstairs and have something to eat, we're all going for a ride later."

"'_Come have something to eat'_," I mimicked, "You sound like Molly." George scowled, and my stomach rumbled. "Well, I could use a snack, anyway. But as for riding—"

"Don't even argue," started Fred, "You'll use Ron's old broom, and Shooting Stars are really-"

"Slow," finished George, "You'll be fine. I swear we won't pretend to try to knock you off this time." I raised my arms in frustration, or submission, I'm not quite sure. I had developed a new fear of heights –flying at high speeds fifty feet above the ground was completely different than climbing the same height up into a tree that would never let you fall.

"Hey Ginny," I said as I ran up to our –her- room to change clothes for the ride, "The twins are dragging me out for a fly, you want to go watch me a make a fool out of myself?"

"Yeah, sure," she answered, "I'm almost done here." I glanced over at the desk she was sitting at next, she had just finished writing a letter and was signing her name.

"How's Dean?" I asked, guessing the addressee as I changed from cotton shorts to jeans. I sat down on my bed, slid my feet into sneakers, and tied my hair into a ponytail.

"Fine," she answered as we tramped downstairs to the kitchen, "He's excited to get back to school though -says his summer has been sort of a drag. His mom made him get a job at a muggle grocery store. 'Interesting but mostly mundane' is what he said." We found Ron and Harry sitting at the kitchen table playing Wizard chess -Harry was losing.

I enjoyed Harry's friendship, and looked forward to his company at school; I had some knowledge of his past, from the books Hermione had lent me, and from her and Harry's personal testimony, and I admit I was a little awed by him. I caught his eye and brought my thumb and pointer finger up to my forehead to simulate "loser". Harry smiled at me, and I turned to fish through the pantry for a snack.

With a handful of crackers and an apple I returned from the pantry. "Mundane, huh? That's a big word for Dean," I teased.

Ginny laughed, "Like you know!"

&&&

My flying lesson that afternoon was not as bad as the others had been. Ginny took over my coaching; instead of Fred and George, who merely teased and cajoled me into flying myself into trouble, Ginny instructed me to fly in circles, each one larger than the last, until I felt comfortable flying at a decent speed. I admit, though I could not bring myself to look anywhere but straight ahead, the feeling of the wind in my face and the strength of the broom beneath me reminded me of my afternoons lounging high up in Trek's bows, and I loved every minute of the ride.

Dinner that evening was quite comical as usual: Molly and Ginny's unregistered stiffness towards Fleur and her unrelenting cheerfulness, Hermione and Ron's verbal jousts, Arthur's enthusiastic questions about the muggle world and Harry's amusing answers ("Well, the light goes out when you shut the refrigerator door..."), and Fred and George -need I say more?

After dinner I dragged myself upstairs for more studying, my echoing footsteps signaling Hermione's regular "Yell if you need me", and sighed at the thought of all the work I had left to do before I went to bed. I had read several books on magical history and theory already, including _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard -on said book Hermione commented, "It's the most pointless and irritating book I've ever read. Wanted to burn it, but _it's still a book._" She finished her bitter rave with a quick mumbled detriment towards someone named Delores Umbridge, one which I will not repeat.

I plopped down onto my bed and flipped through to the page I had book-marked in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_. I had already read the whole book, but even the simplest of spells fascinated me. "_Wingardium Leviosa," _I read, "With just a flick of your wand you can levitate any object for as long as eye contact is held and concentration remains unfaltering…" _This must have been the spell Fred used on my books earlier_, I thought_, Can't__ be that difficult._

I looked up from the book and gazed around the bedroom for a target: Ginny had cleared her desk after finishing Dean's letter but for a small green ceramic vase full of dried roses. "As long as eye contact is held"_ -_I stared at the vase- "And concentration remains unfaltering..."I repeated the spell silently and smiled at the absurdity of this operation; there was no way I could work a spell with my untutored mind, especially sans wand. But what was the harm in curiosity?

I extended my right hand to open air, grasped an imaginary wand, and gave it a flick as I said, "_Wingardium leviosa._" Ginny's vase shot up in the air like a rocket, hit the ceiling, and shattered with a loud _crash. _I yanked the book over my head to protect myself as the shards of vase and flowers fell. When the last piece finally clinked onto the bedspread, I stared at my wandless hand, and then at the destructive result of my curiosity and yelled, "Hermione!"


	7. Chapter 6

With my trunk finally packed for school, I sat down on the lid and sighed. Was I ready for this? Sure, my time at the Burrow had been wonderful, but were three weeks with wizards enough to prepare me for what waited at school? I smiled when I recounted what Hermione had told me about when she first walked through the halls of Hogwarts, and how she knew next to nothing about the Wizarding world. How silly could I possibly be -doubting myself when there were countless others who had passed through those doors when weeks before had thought magic was myth?

I went over my packing checklist in my head. A trip to Diagon Alley with my cousins had allotted me several new treasures like books, school robes, and other magical items needed for school, and they were all packed in the trunk beneath me. Amazingly, I had paid for all of this with _my _money. Apparently, those "monetary arrangements" the Deputy Headmistress wrote me of translated to a vault at Gringotts that harbored a sufficient amount of Prewett wizard gold.

Packed along with my clothes and a few other belongings from home were a few select books borrowed from Hermione, an armful of various new creations by Fred and George, and tucked away in the pocket of my robes was a letter for Aunt Care, to be mailed _promptly_ on my arrival at school. I grinned when I recounted our last phone conversation; her last instruction to me before I hung up was, "Owl me when you get there."

The only thing left to store away to ensure a successful year at school was the only thing I didn't have: a wand. Ollivander's shop had closed up by the time we visited Diagon Alley, and according to my cousins, "If it's not an Ollivander's, it's not a wand."

"Of course," Arthur had explained, "There are several other _good_ wandmakers abroad as well. I am sure Dumbledore will be able sort you out." I sighed, realizing that the list of things the headmaster was promised to do for me was getting longer by the minute, and wondering whether such attention was ever given to a student. But my wandlessness left me more than empty-handed; I frowned at the thought of showing up for Sorting without one –I felt unworthy.

A small explosion woke me from my anxious gloom. I heard Ginny yell "Ron!" angrily, and several shouts echoed hers. I opened the door of the bedroom to the hall and found Molly and Ginny standing outside the open door of Ron's bedroom, Molly's face red.

"It wasn't me!" Ron said to Molly's fiery glare, "My trunk fell over onto one of Fred and George's Whiz-Bangs and--"

"If you make us late for the train—"Ginny started.

"Belt up, Ginny," Ron retorted as soon as his mother had vacated the hallway, "Dean's not going to start snogging some other girl if you're two seconds late." Ginny huffed and strode angrily past me into the bedroom muttering about the short supply of intelligence in older brothers. I reached to grab my trunk and heard Ron finish with, "It's that _third _second you should worry about, I'm sure."

"Harry," I said and pointed at my trunk, "Help me carry this?" I caught his eye just after Ron finished speaking. What was that shadow on his face? He cast one quick glance at the doorway to Ginny's bedroom, then quickly changed his expression and agreed.

The next half hour was filled with a chaotic mass of redheads moving trunks and dashing up and down the stairs for forgotten possessions. Molly was completely flustered, and blessed everyone with phrases like, "I thought having only two children at Hogwarts this year would entail less chaos than the last!" and, when Ron misplaced his Prefects badge, "Ron, if you're not down here in two seconds with your trunk packed I'll-"The rest was drowned out by a shrilly outburst from Pigwidgeon, who's cage, in which he was still locked, had just tumbled down the stairs.

Ginny kissed Arnold the Pygmy Puff goodbye, and hurried down to the parlor, trunk in tow. As I dragged my luggage to the car, Ginny close behind me, I asked her, "Is the trip to the station always this insane?"

Straight-face, she answered, "Always."

&&&

I followed Harry into a compartment on the train, massaging my sides as soon as I loaded my luggage onto the rack. "I think Molly might've given me a bruise," I said to him, thinking of the last few moments on the platform before we boarded the train; I am sure Molly's hugs left marks on my companions too. "Where did Ron and Hermione go—oh, hi."

Along with Harry and I, there were two other students lounging in the compartment: a pale blonde girl sitting next to the window, wearing a quiet smile and a pair of radish earrings, and a brown-haired boy clutching a struggling toad.

"Sophie," Harry said, "This is Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom." He shook Neville's hand and smiled at Luna, and then gestured towards me, "This is Sophie. She's, err, a new student."

I raised my eyebrows at him –Harry only shrugged as I sat down next to him. "Nice to meet you," I said to both of them. Harry revealed to me soon after that Ron and Hermione had left for the prefects' car, and then, noticing the blank look on my face, explained what a prefect was. In the next moment he involved himself in a conversation about something called the D.A. with the two others.

In the dark and wanting to change the subject, I spoke. "How long until we reach the school?" I asked no one in particular.

The boy across from me answered, "A few hours I think, I mean, we just left the station." He smiled at me, "You must be excited." The boy, _Neville,_ I reminded myself, _His name is Neville, _looked tall even sitting; his mop of brown hair was echoed by matching eyes, complimented by a warm and friendly smile.

"Excited…terrified," I shrugged, "Can't really tell at this point." I looked out of the window, gestured at the speed of the landscape, smiled and added wryly, "Is it too late to jump off the train?"

"Not if you've got a wrigglespurd," the blonde girl next to Neville added serenely, "It'll inflate like a balloon if you poke its stomach. You know, to cushion your fall. Do you have one?"

"Ahh…" I was dumbfounded. I hadn't even reached the school and already my peers' conversations were beyond me. _A wrigglespurd? What the hell? _"I don't…" I looked at Neville, and saw he was grinning, while Harry was suppressing laughter. "What's the matter, Harry?" I thought the joke was about me, and I could feel a blush spreading across my face.

Harry noticed and spoke, "Ah, Luna, will you go with me to find the trolley? I'm starving." He nodded to Neville and left the compartment with Luna.

"Luna," Neville began, "She's a little…odd. I mean, she is quite brilliant, but the stuff she says sometimes is completely mental. We try not to laugh at her though, because she's our friend." _So I'm not the joke_, I thought with relief.

"So," he continued, "You must be a transfer student, you're accent is so strange. What school did you go to?"

"I'm from the States," I said, avoiding his question and hoping he wouldn't notice, "Oregon. Been staying with my cousin Ron most of the summer."

"Oh! That's how you know Harry." I nodded at his remark, grateful that he let me glaze over the extent, or lack of, my magical education. "So you're a Weasley then?" he asked.

"No, my surname is Prewett. Molly is my second cousin," I explained, "Once removed." We chatted until our companions returned; Harry stayed just long enough to excuse himself and Neville for a meeting with a professor named Slughorn. Luna remained in the compartment with me, but when she disappeared behind a magazine called the _Quibbler,_ I lied down and closed my eyes for a short nap.

&&&

"Shh, Ron, she's sleeping!" I heard Hermione's voice and opened my eyes.

"Mmm," I said as I stretched and looked around the compartment, "Where's Harry?" Ron and Hermione had returned from the prefects' car; Ron was munching noisily on something from the trolley.

Neville answered me, "I dunno. He took off after Blaise when the Slug Club meeting was over—"

I looked at Neville and started –Neville's entire body shimmered with a green glow. I blinked, and the aura disappeared. Stunned, I rubbed my eyes; had anyone else seen what I had? I knew I had begun to stare, and tried hastily to cover my moment of gaping-jaw awkwardness.

"Slug Club?" I looked out of the window as Neville began to explain; the sky was dark and what terrain I could see had changed noticeably since I had fallen asleep, and I knew we would soon reach our destination.

Anxiety distracted me from the recent green-glowing phenomenon, and curiosity was quickly replaced with nerves and nausea as Hermione nudged me, "We should probably change into our robes. We'll be there soon." She gave me an encouraging smile, and I felt my stomach settle slightly.

Neville and Ron stepped out of the compartment to let Luna, Hermione, and I change. When everyone was dressed, and the train had stopped, we followed Ron and Neville out into the gathering throng of students. When a booming voice called out "First years! First years follow me!" and Ron echoed it with "Sophie, that's you," I felt the color drain from my face.

"You're not going with me?" I asked my companions.

Hermione answered, "It's okay, Sophie, you just have to be Sorted-"

Ron chimed in, "No need to be nervous, I mean, this is the only time you'll be in front of the whole school-ow!" Hermione had just elbowed him.

I felt my face pale instantly, "What?!" But the horseless carriage Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna had just climbed into began to roll away, and in the next instant they were out of earshot.

"First years! First years over here!" As I turned to follow the rest of the students to be Sorted, I cast one quick glance around, and silently wondered what had happened to Harry.


	8. Chapter 7

"Benjamin Priest," a woman's voice called.

I watched as another eleven-year-old, this one with sandy-blond hair and a pointy nose, blush scarlet, and, with an encouraging nudge by another first year, shuffled up to sit on a battered stool before the entire school. The woman who had called his name placed a tattered antique hat upon his head; she waited patiently and watched him for a few moments while the rest of the school mirrored her gaze in silence.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried out jubilantly. A cheer sounded from a table decorated in black and yellow as Benjamin happily scampered off to find a seat.

I had been surveying the Sorting with only mild apprehension, feeling as though I watched through glass, protected, but my hands began to shake as I realized that the speaker had reached the "P" section of the role, and my time under the hat was near. I barely had time to consider bolting from the Great Hall when the woman called another name, "Sophie Prewett."

There are too many words to describe how I felt as I walked to the stool: frightened, excited, anxious, unworthy. Though I knew there was no way to lose sight of me in a crowd of eleven-year-olds, I felt smaller than any of them. Numbly, I sat on the stool and wondered why anyone here had thought Hogwarts was where I belonged. The woman whispered so only I could hear her, "Ready?"

I did not answer, but took hold of my acorn necklace, and felt the warmth and comfort of Trek around me. Since the day I put it on, whenever it touched my skin, stress and anxiety lessoned, even melted away. I sighed. Perhaps I was ready.

The hat was placed on my head, but with my eyes shut, from shame or disquiet I am not sure, I barely registered the act. I thought of the day I received my letter, and the long explanation from my aunt about why it was so imperative that I accept Hogwarts' invitation: I was here to study, to learn, and to master my craft, in order to keep those whom I love, and those who love me safe from harm, and I knew that I really did belong here.

Somewhere in my head a voice whispered of bravery, strength, loyalty, and love, and a moment later the hat proclaimed me—"Gryffindor!"

Applause roared from the Gryffindor table. I recognized my cousins and train companions gathered on the far end; as I walked to the table, I noticed countless pairs of male eyes following me. When I reached the table, the cheers had died away and the Sorting had continued. Ginny greeted me with a congratulatory cheer and, "Weasleys stick together!" as I sat down.

Ron and Hermione offered their congratulations, but just then Balen Roderick was pronounced Slytherin; I saw their mouths move, but heard only applause. I looked over at Harry and mouthed, "Where were you?"

Just then, Neville's hand stretched across the table to shake mine, blocking my view of Harry, and Harry's answer. "Nice one Sophie, "Neville said happily, "Knew you were alright." The ceremony ended shortly after that, and the feast appeared. I tried not to appear awed at the magic, but I suppose my surprise could not be helped. As I helped myself to a pork chop, I noticed three other boys staring from another table.

Annoyed, I turned to Hermione and said quietly, "Do you see something on my face? Or is something wrong with my robes?"

"No," she answered honestly, "I don't see anything."

"Then why are _they_ all looking at me?" I asked naively, gesturing at the line of Ravenclaw boys that had turned in their seats to stare at me.

"Hmm?" Hermione looked up from her plate, a fork full of mashed potatoes in her right hand, "Well, probably because you're-"

"Gorgeous," Ron finished, and lifted his goblet of pumpkin juice to his lips.

"Ron," I said pointedly, "I am your cousin."

He sputtered and almost choked, "I didn't mean it like, perverted, or anything—"

"Anyway," Hermione interjected stiffly. She turned away from Ron to discourage his input in our conversation, "Everyone here sees the same faces every year. I guess their fascinated with-"

"Fresh meat?" I offered, amused.

Hermione laughed, "I was going to say 'foreigners', but same difference." She took a bite of her mashed potatoes as I examined a plate of chicken setting in front of me. She swallowed and continued, "You should've seen the boys two years ago, ogling and drooling over the Beauxbaton witches…what did Pavarti call them?" She smiled, remembering, "Oh, yes. _French pastries._ Pretty on the outside, but mostly hot air and fluff inside." When she said _inside_, she had tapped her temple with her finger.

Ron chimed in again, "Fleur was in the Tournament! She wasn't stupid-"

"Of course," interrupted Hermione, "The boys from Durmstrang were quiet good-looking as well…"

I looked over at Ron, who had begun to cough, spraying bits of peach cobbler across the table; as soon as he regained his composure, glared at Hermione and resolved to be silent for the rest of the feast, except for the occasional muttered curses towards women and Bulgarian Quidditch players.

When I began to feel the first warnings of a full stomach, I took a break from my gorging and brought up the subject of what Hermione and I had dubbed, "The Green Vase Dilemma."

"Well," Hermione started, "I was hoping to get in a little research at the library tomorrow after classes." Shortly after the vase-shattering episode, Hermione had admitted that wandless magic was extremely rare, even more so in those first developing their skills, and that she had no explanation other than "fluke" for my magic's behavior that evening. However, she had volunteered to research wandless magic and relay the details to me when she could.

She lowered her voice, however, because of the dining-din, there wasn't a real need, and continued, "You haven't tried any more magic since that night, have you?" I assured her that I hadn't, and let her get caught in an intense conversation with Neville and Harry.

"Hi," the boy across from me had finally spoken. He had spent most of the evening talking to another boy next to him, though I had caught him looking at me often enough. "I'm Seamus, Seamus Finnigan." He shook my hand and smiled, "This is Dean Thomas." His self-introduction caught me mid-bite, which allowed me a moment to study the two of them. Seamus was obviously Irish, with the promise of a fiery personality. I had already heard a lot about Dean through Ginny, and would have easily recognized him without Seamus's introduction.

I shook Dean's hand and said to him playfully, "How was working the muggle grocery store over the summer?" I smiled coyly, "Quiet _mundane_ I'd expect." I tried to keep a serious face, but when Dean's eyes went wide and he concluded, "You're a Seer?!" I couldn't help but laugh. I was about to reveal the true source of my knowledge when--

"Sophie," Hermione tapped my shoulder and I turned towards her. All of the students were beginning to leave the hall; Harry and Neville were still enjoying their animate conversation as they followed the mass from the feast. "Ron and I have to help the first years find the common room. You can come with us or—"

"Actually-"

Ron's voice bellowed out from behind Hermione, "Oy! Gryffindor first years!"

Annoyed, I started again, "Actually, I have to send a letter to my aunt. Just tell me where the Owlery is and-"

"I can take you," offered Seamus, who had appeared next to me. I looked at Hermione for a hint of approval; Seamus shrugged and added, "Dean's ditched me for Ginny anyway."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Ron cut her off. "_Come on_, Hermione. I'm _tired_," he whined and tugged on her sleeve, "Let's get these gits on the move!"

"It's ok," I told her, "Go, before Ron has a fit. I'll meet you in the dorm."

Seamus and I had to wait for the younger students to filter out before a path cleared. A few moments later we were engaged in conversation about different aspects of the school and grounds, and various professors and students. I bombarded him with questions; fascinated and entertained, I couldn't help but notice how easy our conversation came, or how attractive my companion was.

By the time I had finished in the Owlery, the halls were dark like the sky outside. After tripping over my own feet for the third time, Seamus proposed, "Light your wand."

_My wand,_ I thought, dismayed. "I err, don't have it on me." Well, it wasn't _exactly_ a lie.

"Oh," he said, "Here." Seamus pulled out his own wand and muttered, "Lumos." Instantly, the tip of his wand lit up, lighting the path before him. "Well," he said, "Seeing as...we can't both see..."He offered his hand for me to take. "You could just let me lead you to the common room?"

Wondering if it was purely a gentlemanly offer, I studied what I could in his face. What the light allowed me to see was a shy, honest smile. Though there may have been more to his offer, it was safe to take it for now. I slipped my hand in his and we made our clumsy way back to the common room.


	9. Chapter 8

I woke early the next morning as usual; before any of my house mates stirred I had showered, dressed, and left the common room for the castle grounds. When I reached the first sweep of lawn I stopped for a stretch and my routine meditation –well, it's a fairly new routine, one recently forced on me by Allah. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, with my palms laid open on my knees, I inhaled slowly the scents of the dawn. _Mmm, _I sighed silently as I recognized the gentle smell of dewy lawn and an early warning of rain. The Dark Forest's pines nearest me called out in greeting, and I answered with a pleasant, "Good morning."

Letting go of my senses and surroundings, I plunged deeper into my being and found my inner eye. I could feel Trek's necklace warm against my chest, guiding me through the morning's meditation –I was a part of the piece around my neck, connecting me to the Grove, a part of the grass beneath me, keeping me stable and grounded, and a part of the forest that called to me, an enticing adventure that I knew must wait for another time. A few more deep breaths and the night's fatigue melted away, leaving room for only content and awareness. At last, when the sun arose high enough to cast a few long shadows about the grounds, I opened my eyes.

"Ouch!" I cringed and shut my eyes again –the entire landscape was ablaze with a blinding green glow. After a moment I opened my eyes again, and was relieved to find that whatever spell had cast the vibrant color had faded. As I braced myself to stand I gasped.

My entire body shimmered green.

I examined my hands, feet, and everything else was emitting an unrelenting green light. But then I blinked, and the color disappeared. Shaking my head in confusion, frustration, or a combination of both, I let my feet drag me towards the castle entrance.

When I reached the Great Hall, I was relieved to find that although it was early and I was clearly the first to arrive, breakfast dishes and platters of food decorated the tables. As I prepared my morning bowl of oatmeal (two spoonfuls of brown sugar, raisins, and three strawberries), other students began to filter into the hall.

"Good morning Sophie," Neville said brightly.

"Morning," I said, stirring my oatmeal. I stopped suddenly as I remembered the train-ride to Hogwarts and the brief moment where Neville too had glowed with green light. I surveyed my companion as he tore into a blueberry muffin, but after a few moments of fruitless study, transferred my concentration to my meal.

Wraithlike, the two figures of Seamus and Dean appeared next to me. Seamus managed a mumbled, "G'mornin'," before plopping down on the bench next to me and digging into a small stack of pancakes.

"Good morning," I answered cheerily, "You know, just this morning I was thinking about what you said last night about the Dark Forest and—"

Seamus groaned, "Ugh. No conversation that requires thought until after breakfast." I guessed he must have seen some hurt in my face, so he quickly added, "Sorry." After a few bites of his breakfast he perked up a bit, "So, you're a morning person then, eh? You and Neville ought to get along brilliantly." Neville chuckled, and continued reading his copy of the _Daily Prophet._

Dean finished eating before Seamus, and after clearing his plate asked me, "Ready for class, Sophie?"

_No, _I thought honestly. "Are you?" I asked sardonically.

"Is anyone ever read for the first week of class?" he replied, "It really _is_ a Monday."

"Schedules," Ron declared loudly as he found us at the table, Hermione at his side, "Take 'em before I toss 'em." Random shuffling and reaching across breakfast dishes ensued and soon Ron's hands were empty.

I was just about to ask Hermione if she had my schedule when she handed me a letter, "Here, Sophie. It's from Dumbledore."

While the rest of the Griffindor sixth years pored over their schedules, emitting many a sigh and growled complaint, I reviewed my letter from the Headmaster. "I'm supposed to see him in his office right after breakfast," I said. "Should I be worried?"

"Can I read that?" Hermione asked. I handed her the parchment and when she was finished she offered, "Doesn't sound like anything is wrong. I can take you to his office if you want."

I accepted her offer and when breakfast was over, we headed up to Dumbledore's office. When we reached a statue of a stone gargoyle, a tall woman with round glasses and small eyes was there to meet us.

"Hello Professor McGonagal," Hermione said.

"Good morning Miss Granger, Miss Prewett," she replied, nodding to each of us, "I'm to take you up to see the Headmaster, but I'm afraid it will have to be Miss Prewett alone."

"That's alright," Hermione sighed, "I have class anyway." Professor McGonagal turned towards the statue and muttered something. While her back was turned Hermione mouthed, "You'll be fine." She smiled encouragingly; I was nervous, and she told me later that I had looked a little sick. When she left I followed the professor to a door marked "Headmaster's Office", and shuffled through it after her.

"Good morning, Professor. Miss Prewett," a man's voice called from across the room. The Headmaster was tall, with a full white beard, purple robes, and half-moon glasses. He had a kind face and a laugh hidden in the corners of his mouth. Thinking back, I never really registered all that was said that day in his office, but never could I have guessed how this conference would change my life. "You may sit anywhere, and trust me, my dear, sitting is best."

**

"So, what did he say?" Hermione asked eagerly when we met up in the common room that night.

"Hermione, all I can say is: there was a lot of talk, mostly about me, a lot of fancy words that I don't really understand, and some mention of Green Magic--"

"Green Magic!" Hermione cooed, "That's ancient magic, really advanced stuff for ordinary witches. How did that come up?"

"Well," I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, "Apparently, I'm not a witch. I'm a Green Mage."

Hermione gasped, "Oh my God! That's...amazing. Wow, a Green Mage at Hogwarts and I know her! I'm speechless. I can't even think—what are they going to do with you? I mean, they must be putting you in some sort of special class or something."

"Well, Professor McGonagal suggested I should find a tutor for the regular classes--"

She interrupted, "Me, obviously. It's no problem, we'll talk about this later. I'm so excited, go on!"

"This is for you, before I forget," I said, and handed her a letter from Professor McGonagal. "I'm guessing it's about tutoring."

"I'll read it later," she said, and tossed the letter into her bag, "Finish the story!"

Hermione's intense eagerness was a little overwhelming at times. "And the rest is really fuzzy. Professor Sprout was there too, and she told me she would explain the whole 'green magic' thing once I set up regular sessions with her. It's plant magic, and she has some in her too. The weird thing about me, she said, is that I'm nothing else. Just Green. No witch magic. I mean, I can do all the different spells witches can, but, I don't know...she said the "origination and delivery" is a lot different. It's all very confusing to me."

"Let's go upstairs and talk about this some more," she suggested. I agreed and we headed towards the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

At the base of the stairs Ginny and Dean were participating in a long and wet goodnight kiss. Seamus and Harry were heading to bed as well and Seamus called out, "Oy! Get a room you two." Dean and Ginny pulled apart and glared sourly at onlookers. They murmured soft good-nights and took to their respective stairs. I glanced at Harry and saw him watch Ginny ascend with a slight frown on his face.

"Good night, Harry," I called to him. He started a little, then smiled a bit and waved as he went up to bed.

I followed Hermione upstairs and was pleased to find my trunk and other things clustered at the foot of my new bed, what I perceived as a very romantic and classy, four-poster bed, right next to Hermione's. "Hermione, can I tell you a secret?" I whispered as I crawled into bed. She nodded, and I continued, "Professor Sprout told me she isn't the only one with Green in her at this school."

I paused to pull up the covers under my chin. "You're friends with Neville Longbottom, right?"


	10. Chapter 9

It was Saturday morning and I was exhausted. That first week was the longest and most stressful I've ever experienced. You wouldn't think so, since I did _nothing_ physical, but I had a lot of catching up to do before they put me in regular classes, and I think I read until my brain bled.

And I still didn't have a wand.

It was so uncomfortable, working magic by just waving my hands. It didn't hurt, and it certainly wasn't difficult, but it was just one more thing that made me so different, so _outside_ of everyone else. And being different was hard for me to accept. I needed an outlet, I needed relief for all this stress. Sleep helped, but every morning during meditation I felt that pull from the forest. I know those trees were calling to me, that was simple to understand, but I've never felt such desire from a source outside myself. It was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Don't misunderstand me, I love everything about forests; their grandeur, their spirit...but I haven't heard anything pleasant about the Forbidden Forest, and I'm not so stupid as to pretend it isn't dangerous.

But I still wanted--needed--to find a tree like Allah or Fulk, someone to calm my nerves and whisper my sanity back to me. Perhaps these English trees could be like that, loving and sweet and wise. But until I find someone to trust with my deepest secrets, I won't go in there alone.

After breakfast I was meeting with Professor Sprout in the greenhouse to organize tutoring sessions. Hermione was graciously been working with me when the professors couldn't, but--understandably--she was not assigned to help me with Green magic. I couldn't get a name out of Sprout, she only grinned sheepishly and said something about surprises. I didn't understand the giggle that accompanied her answer, but later I would.

After my ritual meditation on the patch of lawn tucked away behind a corner of the castle, I grabbed a small breakfast and headed to the greenhouses. On the way I recalled the events of last night at dinner: some unnamed third year asked me about my accent, and the tale of my traveling here from the states quickly turned dirty in the hands of a few familiar Gryffindor boys.

_"Take it back," I said playfully, "Take it back, now!"_

"Oh please," Dean said, "You red folk are all the same. American...savage...what is the difference?" Seamus laughed.

_I feigned an angry face and glared at the both of them, "You dare to call _me_ savage?!" It was useless not to play along, "Give me back my land, you barbaric, empire-obsessed paleface!" _

Harry cut in, "Uh-oh boys, I think the squaw is upset--"

"Squaw?" I spat at him, "Have you even been to the states? My family is from here! Ron is my cousin!"

"I think 'Squaw' is a great name for you--"

_"Don't ever say that again, Ron," I glared at him magnificently. Dean laughed; I muttered "_traitor_" in his direction and switched tactics. "So you all lost the war and your most profitable colony. Get over it, you lobster-back pansies." I stood up and raised my fist in the air, "No taxation without representation!" _

I looked around the room at the other house tables. Several people were staring at my theatrical pose, and they had definitely heard my shout. I blushed, and sat down, a little subdued. "Well," I offered bashfully, "That was fun."

I was now standing before the door of one of the upper level greenhouses, and slipped inside. I was a little early, which was fine with me. I had a new appreciation for quiet, and a little tranquility was just what I needed. However, a few minutes of this was all I got when one of the younger plants woke up and recognized my Green magic. It was all I could do to try to get her to quiet before she woke up the others. Between the growls of more mature plants less forgiving about being woken up early and the excited coos of "_pet me! feed me! look at my new flower!_" from the younger ones, my last moment of morning peace was finished.

The door behind me crashed open, followed by a muttered curse. "Sorry," a male voice murmured.

"Good morning, Miss Prewett," Professor Sprout offered cheerfully, "I'm sorry but I have to run. This is your Herbology tutor, Neville Longbottom."

Neville shrugged a good-morning at me and ran his fingers through his brown locks. He looked like he'd been up for a while—he was a morning person too. I smiled.

"Hi, Neville," I said brightly, "Good to see you. How was class this week?"

He started to answer and Sprout cut in, "You two will be fine without me I suppose?"

"Um, yes, I guess," I offered with a glance at Neville. He nodded and pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Well, OK, then," she said. I saw her smile just as I turned away to look for gloves. I found some on the shelf underneath the table I was standing at, and bent down to pick them up. When I ducked out of sight, I heard the door creak open and Professor Sprout whisper "She's quite pretty." I blushed—_that explains the giggle..._A moment after that the door closed again quietly and Neville and I were alone.

I slipped on my gloves. I looked over at Neville. "Hey," I said happily, "How are you?"

"Great," he answered, "It's good to be back in here." He patted a creeping plant vine fondly. He glanced toward the greenhouse door and satisfied with what he did or didn't see there, slipped off his gloves.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

"I don't like to wear them. They get in the way and the plants don't like them much..." his voice trailed off and he looked at me sheepishly like he had just revealed a secret.

But I understood him, "Oh, I know what you mean." I raised my eyebrows, "Do you hear them too?"

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked seriously.

"No!" I protested, "I'm really not." Now I was unsure of whether or not my abilities should be secret, but it _was_ magic, and Neville was a wizard..."I hear them...you know...talking..."

He stared at me for a long time before he spoke, but when he did there was genuine enthusiasm in his voice, "That sounds like an incredible gift. I wish I could hear them." He picked up a watering can and dripped some water into a thirsty plant's pot, "Mostly I just get a feeling. But it works, I usually know what they want, what helps them grow better, stronger, bigger."

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

He grabbed a few bags of something off a shelf and a couple of trowels and said, "Let's get started." We worked for a few hours re-potting and doing general repairs, fertilizing, and talking. Neville was very quiet, and carried a soft peace around him. He was very strong, from lifting and carrying many heavy planter's trays or pots, even the muscles in his hands were defined. The hours swept by in his company.

"I love it in here," I said dreamily, "Working with the plants. It's so--"

"Watch out!" he said suddenly.

"--relaxing? Ouch!" One of the Sparking Snapdragons I was re-potting bit into my hand--luckily these were nontoxic. The snapdragon snorted angrily at me, and sparks blew from the tip of its bud as smoke drifted from one of it's nostrils. My short outburst set the rest of the potted dragons into a commotion of rebuking their youngest for its behavior, and it was a few strained moments until the pandemonium settled.

"Well," I said, nursing my punctured palm, "It's usually relaxing." The small bite mark was turning red around the edge, and was swelling slightly. "Neville, I thought you said these were nontoxic!"

"That's what the label says!" He picked it up to show me, and frowned, "Damn. Someone messed with the label, Soph." He tossed the label aside, "Stupid first years! You can clearly tell these are toxic if you look at the leaf pattern! Let me see," he snatched my hand to look at the bite. "Ouch. I think there's some anti-toxin in here," he said as he rummaged through the supply cupboard. "I don't see any, but maybe this will work." He pulled out a small jar of green salve, the label read: Mister Mordhorst's Everyday Anti-EveryToxin Goo. He opened the jar and gestured for me to hold out my hand.

He took it and smeared some of the salve on my wound. His palm was warm against the back of my hand. "Soph, I don't think this is strong enough. We better go see Madame Pomfrey," he said, concern in his voice. He dropped my hand and led me out of the greenhouse. We hurried to the hospital wing, as the bite was worsening by the minute, verbally bashing the mental capacity of first years the whole way.

"You should have been wearing gloves, working with sparking snapdragons," Madame Pomfrey said as she healed my hand, "Be grateful they weren't fully grown, or you'd be in here with some nasty burns."

Neville and I were dismissed, but after we grabbed dinner it was getting late and I suggested we go back to the common room instead of the greenhouses. "I checked the schedule, the first years are in the greenhouses all of tomorrow morning. Let's hope they don't mess up any more labels or I'll be messing _them_ up." Neville laughed, and muttered the password to the Fat Lady.

"Goodnight, Squaw," he said.

"Oh, Neville, not you too!" I feigned my shock and hurt.

He only grinned, "Good night, _Sophie_."

Over those next few weeks I spent more and more time in the greenhouse, sometimes alone, sometimes with Sprout, mostly with Neville. We soon became best friends. I am not sure exactly why Sprout named him as my tutor; he has green magic, but not like I do. But that green light I sometimes see when I meditate, that's green magic, and I see it in Neville when my eyes are half closed and I'm not looking for it. Maybe I don't recognize what he's teaching me exactly, but I wouldn't trade my time with him for anything.

My few sessions with Professor Sprout gave me insight to my Green abilities, the most shocking being this: my magic was rooted (excuse the pun) in ancient elemental magics and grew (excuse another pun) from the powers of magical trees that wands are made out of. I had no wand because _I was a wand. _This meant I had no need to practice the spells or the movements that went with them. I could just stretch out my hands and say the spell and it would work. This helped a lot with catching up with my class, but still it would take me a year or so to memorize all of them if I practiced every spare moment...

But every spare moment was leading me away from studying and into the greenhouses where _my_ plants (not really mine, but I do love them as if they were my own), and Neville waited for me. If a consolation at all Neville _did_ help me study, and quizzed me on my spells...very often actually, but just as often the greenhouse peacefulness took over and we just enjoyed each other's silence and the occasional accidental touch.


	11. Chapter 10

It was Thursday night, about a month into term, and a bunch of us were sitting peacefully in the common room during a homework break. The subject of music had some up and I immediately regretted my summer of singing during chores at The Burrow.

"Sophie is a singer," Harry offered, "She's pretty good."

"Just 'pretty good'?" I scoffed, "Thanks, Harry. See if I ever sing in front of you again."

"I think that's a great idea," Hermione chimed, "Let's hear you, Sophie."

I protested emphatically, "Um, that would be a 'no'."

"Ah, come on!" Ron offered, "It's not a big deal."

"There isn't even a piano," I offered desperately. I love singing; I hate performing. And I hardly knew most of these people. What if wizards don't like muggle music? What if they hated my singing?

Someone shouted, "Sing, Sophie, sing!"

Hermione coughed loudly and I looked at her. She smirked at me and pulled out her wand, pointing it at an empty couch. "What are you going to do with that?" I questioned cautiously. She waved her wand gracefully and the couch transformed into a beautiful baby grand piano. I drooled instantly and moved toward it slowly, mesmerized. "Oh, Hermione—it's gorgeous." The keys were a classic white and black and sparkled in the light of the fire. The pedals shown in a polished gleam, and when I stuck one key, a pure and magical note seduced all of my senses.

"I can't make this a regular thing. I've got homework." I put my hands on the keys; they were smooth and cool. I closed my eyes and began to play. A quiet cheer echoed around the room as students crowded around the piano.

The melody trickled out from the piano and flowed around the room. My breathing slowed with the rhythm of the piece as my body swayed slightly with the tune. "The music is just starting. Night is falling, and I am calling: dance with me," I began, "Let it lift you off the ground."

I opened my eyes for a moment. Seamus was staring at me from the edge of the piano. I closed my eyes again and continued. "Starry eyes, and love is all around. I can take you where you want to go. Dance with me." The melody had me in its grip and I kept playing well after the words stopped. I was entranced.

Eventually I pulled my hands away from the ivory and opened my eyes.

Strong applause rumbled in the common room when I stood up from the piano. I blushed and bowed slightly. _Limelight time over_, I thought.

Hermione clapped loudly and smiled at me just before she transfigured the piano back into its original couch form, discouraging the pleas of "Encore!" I thanked her later that night.

The onlookers slowly faded into the corners of the common room, some disappearing behind books, some into the arms of their significant others. I settled myself onto the piano-couch by the fire, and watched a torched log dissolve into hungry flames.

"That was amazing, Sophie," a male voice sounded behind me.

I turned my head toward him smiled, "Thanks, Seamus. Do you want to sit?"

He smiled back and sat down next to me. "How are classes going?" he asked after a moment.

"Fine," I sighed, "Exhausting though." I meant mentally, but I added humorously, "There are just so many stairs."

"Well if you get lost I can always show you off—I mean around. Show you around. You know, like that first night."

"Yeah, that'd be great. I'll definitely take you up on that sometime."

After a moment of mutual silence, Seamus began, "So..." He paused to scratch the back of his neck and study something interesting in the carpet, "Do you fancy Neville?"

I blanked, "Um, fancy? I don't know what that means." I looked at his face; Seamus' brown eyes eagerly searched my face for...something.

"Oh," he said blankly, "I mean, are you two together?"

Unsure why I was suddenly nervous, I looked away—and caught Neville's gaze. I flinched, startled. Neville's face was cloudy. He was watching Seamus and me intently.

"Um, no," I said to Seamus, my face still directed at my best friend. I turned back to Seamus then and finished, "We are just good friends--"

"Great!" he interjected, "Well, then, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

_Hogsmeade...Hogsmeade._ I wracked my brain for a few silent moments. Seamus fidgeted, "It's OK if you don't want to..."

_Hogsmeade...Oh! the village—shopping, food, social drinking..._

"Yeah, sure," I answered, "That sounds like fun."

Seamus grinned, "OK, I'll meet you in the common room Saturday morning."

I nodded my head and smiled. Seamus stood and passed Neville on his way to the boys' dormitory stairs—Seamus made a kind of happy-boy grunt and lightly punched Neville's upper arm.

Neville shrugged. He met my eyes again, and his face was still cloudy. I motioned for him to come sit with me, but he just dropped his gaze and turned to follow Seamus upstairs.

I had barely a second to decipher his actions before Lavender Brown, in all her silly glory, rolled over the back of the couch to drop down beside me, her head on the cushion next to my legs.

"Ooo!" she giggled loudly, "Did Seamus just ask you out? He is sooo cute—I could see you two together, easy." She twirled a finger in her wavy brown hair; I just stared at her. "Yeah, Seamus Finnigan and Sophie Prewett: Hogwarts hottest couple!" She giggled again and I stood up. "Bedtime? Already?" she cooed, "Off to dream about your man?"

Lavender was not my favorite Gryffindor girl—I don't endorse behavior inappropriate for one's age. Too much giggling without the influence of inebriants reaches an intolerable stage quickly. I dragged myself up the stairs to my bed and fell onto it roughly. Seamus wasn't interested in me like that—or was he? We were just friends...

I am amazed at my own naivety, and I am reminded of it almost every day. I rolled my eyes at no one in particular as I contemplated the phrase "Hogwarts hottest couple" in my head. Slowly, my eyelids began to droop, and I drifted off into sleep.

I woke up sometime later deep in a dark forest. There was no sound other than my shallow breathing. The darkness was so thick I could feel it pressing in on me, oozing over my skin. Slowly, a dull roaring entered my ears, and I froze, listening to it growing louder, and louder.

The roar brought with it loud screeching birds exploding out of the trees in front of me—fleeing from, what? The roar grew so loud now that I could discern several sounds of its makeup at once: crackling of green needles, breaking of tree branches, and the cries of trees' voices as their bodies were burning.

I still couldn't see the fire, but I could feel the heat approaching. Wind blew ashes into my nose, and into my ears--the final screams of trees as their spirits left their dead pulp behind. _Help my family! Save my children! _they demanded. I felt tears on my face, and when the fire finally reached me, the pain of the burning trees entered my body and I screamed from the agony of it. And over my scream I heard human voices crying, "Sophie! Sophie! Save us!" They were familiar—the sound of them broke my heart and burned me from the inside out.

A bird suddenly flew down to my shoulder and whispered in my ear urgently with Hermione's voice, "Sophie, wake up." The bird flapped its wings desperately, shaking my shoulder violently, "Wake up!"

I opened my eyes. Hermione's face swam into focus above me. "You were talking in your sleep and jerking around. Are you alright?"

There were tears on my face and my pajamas were soaked with sweat. "Nightmare," I said to her, "Did I wake everyone up?"

"No. They are still asleep," she answered as she sat back down on her bed—it was next to mine. "I was still up—just finishing some homework. It's fairly early, I suppose one or two in the morning."

"Thanks for waking me," I said.

"You weren't loud or anything, but you looked sick," she said, "Should I take you to the hospital wing?"

"No, I'll be OK. Thanks, Hermione." She smiled comfortingly and slid beneath her covers. I listened to her breathing as it joined the chorus of a dormitory of girls in the rhythms of slumber. Almost an hour later I was still asleep...and only one solution surfaced in my head.

_This is crazy, _I thought as I kneeled and placed my hand on the wood floor of the boys' dormitory. I couldn't fall asleep alone after my nightmare, and I could only think of one person to be with tonight.

_I, um, I need you to be quiet_, I silently pleaded to the floorboards, _Could you do that? I can't get caught in here. _I have never believed my magic to be so superior as to forgo manners, not even in the beginning of it all; I am grateful for favors granted, and have always said "please".

The wood shuddered a reply; I felt the magic pass through my fingers, placating the panels into submission. And then I stood there, frightened, but still not sure why I had come here.

I took one step, then two, and mutely made my way to the four-postered shells of the snoring sleepers. No age-old creaks escaped the disciplined wood. The floor was obediently silent.

I recognized the boy sleeping in the first bed: Dean Thomas. He snored symphonies. I placed a hand on his comforter and ordered, with a little confidence, _Make him sleep. Let him sleep deeply and peacefully until I leave. Please._ I again felt my magic pass through me, into the blankets and throughout the entire bed, filling each organic fiber with the persuasions of comfort and sleep. I used my power on all of the beds--the curtains closed themselves--except for his. His curtains were already closed.

With a trembling hand (from the nightmare, or something else, I wasn't entirely sure), I pulled back the cloth barrier. He was asleep. I stood there for a few minutes–time is infinitely longer in the dark--trying to figure out what I was doing. His mop of dark brown hair was slightly messed, and a drop of saliva graced his pillow. He snored, too. I smiled slightly, and then he opened his eyes.

He stared at me for a while before he knew he was awake. "Sophie, what are you doing here?" He was still a little groggy from sleep, and used a corner of the comforter to wipe the drool off his chin, "This is the _boys_ dormitory, you'll get me into trouble-" He sat up and peered at my face, "Bloody hell, what's the matter with you?" He pulled me down onto his bed and put his hand on my forehead, "Your face is all white."

"I'm not sick, Neville," I said and he drew his hand away. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but didn't care about covering himself. "I had a nightmare. The worst one I've ever had in my life. It was awful—there was a fire and I could feel it burning my skin and--" Something was wet on my cheeks—I wiped it away. My voice shook with leftover fear, "I could hear them screaming."

"Who, Soph?" Neville was sitting up next to me. We did not touch.

"I don't know who they were," I said quietly. Tears welled up in my eyes when I thought about the screaming. "All I could see were flames all around me...and all I could hear was the roar of fire and screaming...it was burning me." Fear and exhaustion had drained the strength from me and I broke down, crying on Neville's shoulder. He didn't pull away, only held me close like the best friend I knew he was.

My skin was cold and slightly clammy, dotted with goose bumps. I knew he could tell because on of his hands had moved to my arm. "I can't sleep." I crawled completely under the covers before he knew what I was doing.

"Soph, you can't stay, what if one of the others-"

"They won't wake up, Neville," I said. A sudden look of alarm streaked across his face, and I finished, "Not until I leave--it's just a spell." I saw him relax a little, so I pulled the blankets up to my chin and lied down next to him, "Please, don't ask me anything else. I don't like being frightened. If there were somewhere else I could have gone, then I wouldn't have woken you."

He was still sitting, "What about Hermione, Sophie? I mean, she's your friend too-" I shook my head. He frowned and murmured, "Seamus?"

"Hermione doesn't know what the nightmare was about," I said quietly, "And _you_ are my best friend." I ignored his second suggestion.

He sighed quietly and said nothing. "Do you want me to leave, then?" I asked softly, praying he'd let me stay. I was afraid to fall asleep--I needed someone with me while I slept. I needed Neville.

He was silent for a while, but then lied back onto his pillow and pulled the covers up over himself. "No, Sophie, I don't." was all he said. He didn't close his eyes, but he didn't look at me. I know, because I watched his face until I fell asleep.


	12. Chapter 11

I got up early the next morning before the boys so I could sneak back to my dorm in peace. After I showered and got ready, I threw on a green wool sweater over my clothes and spent the next forty-five minutes meditating out on the grounds. This morning, however, I didn't sit on the grass in my secluded corner of the grounds—I walked, quietly, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

I could feel the trees calling me—it was exciting, thrilling, to know that some of them were _awake_. When I say "awake", I only mean that they can think and speak, as opposed to the others who had lost their consciousness or had been seeded without them. I wanted desperately to meet them, to talk to them, to waste long hours in their presence...but I also knew there were dangerous creatures throughout that ancient forest, and it would be more than stupid to go alone.

My first class—charms--was in fifteen minutes, so I hurried to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast. Neville was waiting for me patiently. "Sorry," I mumbled through a mouthful of muffin and jam, "I went for a walk and lost track of time."

"S'okay," he said, "But we need to hurry."

He turned and I followed him out of the hall. Neville and I always walked to charms together—normally because we were the first Gryffindors up in the morning and consequently the first to finish eating. We usually spent the rest of our time before class talking with each other about something that happened in the greenhouse, a few trouble's either of us had had in class the day before, or how our nights went. This morning, he didn't have to ask how I slept.

We were almost to the charms classroom when I heard, "Sophie!--Neville."

I stopped and turned around. Neville noticed and stopped. Seamus jogged for a few seconds to catch up to us. "Good morning, Sophie," he said.

I greeted him just outside the classroom and the three of us found our seats in the second row. I dropped my heavy book bag on the table and flopped down in the seat between Neville and Seamus.

"Today, students," Professor Flitwick began, "We must look at the hummingbird." He waved his wand at the chalkboard--a stick of yellow chalk flew into the air, and began to draw a tiny bird dipping its long slender beak into a bright yellow flower. He flicked his wand again and the chalk fell to the gray metal shelf at the bottom of the board, and the sketched hummingbird began to beat its chalky wings. "See how the bird darts back and forth, notice the way it angles it's wings..."

I'm going to be honest here—I couldn't charm even one feather to save my life.

Charms is my weakest are of magical expertise, and I _dread _coming to this class. Green things are meant to stay rooted in the ground—I swear the reason I just can't grasp this subject is because _trees_ _don't_ _fly. _I can get something up into the air sometimes, and I can make it sway side to side—I can even slow a falling object to the point where it almost hovers. Anything more than that, and I am useless.

Thirty minutes into class—thirty minutes of waving a fake wand to protect the secret of my green magic; thirty minutes of repeating useless magical codes; thirty minutes of no results—and I was ready to scream. Frustration burned through me like poison. Heat rose in my face and chest until I was ready to scream. Suddenly, in the middle of muttering the incantation through gritted teeth my acorn necklace began to hum. Immediately I dropped my hand holding the fake wand and sat down.

The hum against my chest was so soothing and had instant effect on my mind and body. I was breathing easier and my anger cooled and disappeared. I touched the necklace with my left hand, and a vision of Trek flashed before my mind. My skin flared in a memory of the feel of lying in his bows—and I smiled. I was calm again.

"I like your necklace," Seamus said. He was looking at me intently. He reached out and curled his fingers around the amber-encased acorn, brushing my hand as I let go of it, and settling lightly against the warm skin just under the hollow of my neck. My face flushed.

"Where did you get it," he asked. He peered at it curiously.

"My best friend back home made it for me," I said. Neville was watching Seamus, frowning.

"Mr. Finnigan," Professor Flitwick interjected, "Eyes up front, please."

Seamus dropped his hand from my necklace, "Sorry, Professor."

I stared at my fake wand and sighed--back to charm work.

By the end of class, Professor Flitwick had to get Seamus' attention three times to stop him from distracting me, and finally Flitwick got so frustrated he gave Seamus detention...for this Saturday.

"But it's a Hogsmeade weekend--"

"Nine o'clock, in my office. Bright and early."

Seamus scowled as we were excused from class. Neville and I were off to the greenhouses, and when we reached the ground floor Seamus finally spoke to me. "I'm sorry about this weekend, Sophie."

"Oh, hey," I said, "It's not your fault--"

"Yes it is," he started.

"Well, yeah, but what I mean is--don't feel bad. Neville will go with me."

He smiled half-heartedly, eying Neville, "Alright, as long as you aren't mad--"

"We should get going," Neville interrupted.

"See you tomorrow afternoon in the common room? After you get back?" Seamus asked quietly. He grabbed my hand lightly.

I stared at my hand in his, "Uh, yeah...I guess so."

He grinned, "Great." He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, "Bye, Sophie." I blushed and a shy smile curled into the corners of my lips.

Neville grasped my arm urgently, "Come on, Soph."

"Bye," I called as Neville dragged me away to the greenhouses. As I nearly jogged to keep up with him, I thought about Seamus and how genuinely sorry I was that our date was canceled. By the time we reached the greenhouses my mind was lost to a serenade of _"Hogwarts' hottest couple."_

Twenty minutes into an autopilot routine of watering, trimming, and fertilizing my plants, I realized that Neville--usually talkative and energetic—hadn't spoken since we'd left Seamus in the front hall.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him, "Why are you so quiet?"

"No—nothing is wrong," he answered. He didn't look at me. "Was I quiet?"

"Yes," I said, frowning, "You're not getting sick are you?" I laid the back of my hand against his forehead, "Cause we could take a break now and I could walk with you to the hospital wing."

He grasped my hand and slowly lowered it away from his face. He stared at my face for a moment or two, "Really, Soph, I'm alright." He let go of my hand and turned back to pruning.

"Your skin--" I said, "It's really warm."

And soft. And he smelled _good. _I shook my head. Where were those thoughts coming from? I turned away from him.

"You know," I said to him, "I can see your magic sometimes. It's green."

"Green?"

"Yes." I smiled, "Not 'Green' magic, like mine, but sometimes when I'm not really looking for it I can the magic in your veins, streams of glowing green." I paused, "I see it in myself in the mornings when I meditate, and in the growing things on the grounds, and in the forest."

"The forest?" he asked, alarmed. He grabbed my arm desperately, "Did you go in there?"

"No!" I answered, "Not yet, anyway."

"Not _ever_," he corrected, "Don't _ever_ go in there."

"Why not?"

"Why do you want to?" He stared into my eyes, and his face was just a breath away from mine, "Haven't you heard about what's in there?"

"Yes, but..." I stopped.

"What?"

"But the trees--they _want_ me," I said sheepishly, "I hear it, I feel it—the wanting."

"They _want_ you," he stated. I shrugged.

He didn't say anything for a moment or two and the break in our conversation was filled with the sighs of middle-aged plants and the trickle of water I was distributing to some of the more isolated pots. A shadow flashed across my best friends' face as he processed something in his head. "There's a line forming behind Seamus," he said blankly.

I blinked, and before I could respond, he offered quickly, "I think we're almost done here."

"Right," I said quietly. We cleaned up our tools and hung our aprons up on a peg near the door. I tucked my gloves into my apron pocket and stepped outside. Neville followed.

"I'll see you for dinner, after Transfigurations?" he asked, smiling at the thought of my second-favorite class: I was good at Transfigurations.

"Save me a seat," I begged cheerfully. We parted. I shrugged on my book bag and headed off to class.

Dinner that night offered the most bizarre dining experience I'd ever had in my life. Before I left the common room I had changed out of my school robes and into a white cotton dress with black lace trim. After a long day of class and working in the warm greenhouses, I needed a pick-me-up—and sometimes a girl just feels like looking pretty.

I spotted Neville easily in the crowded hall, and as I wound my way through the tables to him, something odd was happening. Boys all around me were turning in their seats and pointing at me—whispering and grinning with silly, dreamy looks on their faces. _Come on!_ I wined silently, _This is ridiculous. _

But when I got closer to the Gryffindor table, I noticed my male friends behaving the same way as the boys I didn't know. "What's wrong with all of you?" I asked them angrily.

"Sophie," Ron began, "You smell--"

"_What_?" I asked, blushing profusely, "I just took a shower--"

Seamus elbowed him roughly, "No, Sophie, you smell like...like flowers or something--" He beamed a bright smile all over his silly dreamy face. His head rested in his hands as he stared at me. They were all staring at me.

"Like flowers?" I asked curiously. "A lot of girls smell like flowers, and that's just shampoo--" _Oh no_, I thought as the realization hit me, _I smell like blossoms..._This is embarrassing, when girls are fertile, they put out pheromones...and when trees are the same way—they bloom, and they smell, intoxicating.

"Yeah, well, you smell the best," a fourth-year Gryffindor I didn't know called to me from a ways down the table.

"Maybe you should bottle it," someone else said.

_Oh dear,_ I thought, _This is getting a little out of hand. _

I sat down between Harry and Neville, across from Seamus. I stared at my plate and focused on _not _smelling_. _A few minutes of mentally cooling my pheromone output, the process seemed to work and the boys returned to their normal conversations. I turned to Neville--who had managed to ignore my overwhelming flowery scent—to ask him about his day, but he was currently engaged.

Ginny leaned her head in close to him and whispered eagerly. Heat spiked in my chest when she put her hand on his arm as she spoke. I frowned without any specific reason, and listened in to what she was saying.

"Well, at least she's not going with him this weekend—maybe _you_ should ask her--"

Neville cut in, "We're already going together—I mean, not _together, _but--"

Neville was going to ask a girl to Hogsmeade? But who--

Seamus interrupted my thoughts, "Maybe you _should_ try to bottle it. You're so good with plants—I bet someone in the village would sell it in their shops."

"Yeah, but what would I call it?" I said absentmindedly. I tried to tune into Neville's conversation with Ginny once again, but they had switched to something else.  
"Luminescence," Seamus answered. He smiled at me and I blushed—he had a great smile, "Because your eyes sparkle like stars."

I giggled at his attempt to charm me—but when I looked at him and something fluttered in my stomach, I had to admit his attempts were working.

After dinner Seamus took off to the library, and I walked back to the common room with Ginny, Neville, Harry, and Dean. Ginny and Dean walked in front of the group, holding hands and chattering happily. Harry's face fell into shadow as he watched them.

I nudged Neville playfully. "So..." I began, "Who's this _girl _I hear you are thinking of asking to Hogsmeade?"

Neville faltered in his step, "N—no one. Uh, what makes you ask that?"

"No one?" I asked doubtfully, "But I heard Ginny at dinner saying...something about you and a girl--"

"There's no girl," he said sharply.

"Ok, ok. But we're still going, right? With Harry and them?"

"Yes," he answered. He paused and grinned brightly, "Too bad Seamus can't go."

The Fat Lady swung open and we followed Harry through the portrait hole.

"Seamus is a little—_eager_...but he seems like a nice guy." I grabbed Neville's arm, and stared into his eyes, searching his face for honesty. "He _is_ a nice guy, right? You would tell me if he's just not a good idea--"

"Yes. I would tell you," he said, his voice soft. His eyes were a warm, honey-brown tonight. We sat on the couch near the fireplace and the flames flickered in his eyes as he watched the burning logs. "Seamus is pretty obvious about his feelings," Neville said, "He's pretty obvious about most things. I don't think you need me to tell you what to think about him."

"Are you angry with me? You sound angry."

"I'm not angry, Sophie," he said quietly. He said nothing after that. The fire was making me drowsy, so I leaned my head on his shoulder. By the time my heavy eyelids drooped and refused to open again, the common room was empty but for Neville and me.

"Time for bed," he stated.

I groaned. He stood up and I flopped down in protest on the couch in the newly vacated space. Neville rolled his eyes at me and smiled as he pulled me up to standing position. Then he nearly dragged me over to the girls' staircase.

"Good night," he said to me as I swayed on my feet.

"See you in a few minutes," I said to him as I started to climb the stairs.

"What?" he asked, confused.

I turned to him with reciprocating confusion on my face, "Last night...when I..." I lowered my voice to a whisper, "When I slept in your bed with you, I didn't dream." I stepped back down to the floor next to him. I looked up into his face, "I don't want to wake up tonight after having that nightmare and not have you there with me."

Something like surprise erupted all over Neville's face. "Is that alright?" I asked him, silently begging him to concede.

He sighed deeply and pulled me into a warm embrace. I inhaled the smell of him: soap and cinnamon. "Of course," he said, "What are best friends for?"

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as I anticipated a full night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. As I hurried up the stairs to change into my pajamas, I heard him say, "See you in a few minutes."


	13. Chapter 12

"Good morning, Sophie," a voice said quietly from across the common room. It was about six thirty in the morning and I was sneaking back to the girl's dorm. Brown eyes set in a face framed by a bushel of curly brown hair stared at me from the fireside couch.

"Hey," I said, frozen on the bottom step of the boy's staircase, "What are you doing up?"

The corners of Hermione's mouth turned up slightly, "I woke up early and didn't feel like going back to sleep." I reached the couch, "You weren't in your bed last night."

I sat down next to her. I couldn't tell if my cheeks were warm from the fire in the hearth or something else. I glanced at her sheepishly, "No, I wasn't."

"So you and Seamus are pretty serious then?" she asked.

"No!" I protested, "We, we're not even dating. I didn't even see Seamus last night."

She looked confused, "Then who were you with?"

"We didn't do anything--"

"You don't want to tell me?"

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

She sighed. I stared at her.

"I won't think any worse of you no matter what you tell me," Hermione said, "Of course I won't think worse of you if you tell me nothing, either."

"I'm not really sure what to say," I said as I replayed the last two nights in my head, "I don't exactly know what it is I'm doing."

"Well you should just be careful—take the necessary precautions..."

My eyes widened, "Hermione, I'm not having sex. I don't do that."

"Oh," she said, "Sorry, Sophie, don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to assume. I'm no prude, I would understand if you were, you know...shagging someone--Seamus is very attractive--"

"I wasn't with Seamus!" I declared.

"Ok, ok," she said. She nudged me coyly and giggled, "So who were you with?"

I shoved her playfully and sighed quietly, "Hermione, I don't think I'll be sleeping in my bed very often."

"I see," she said.

"Can you keep this between us?" I asked.

"Yes, of course." She smiled at me and stood suddenly, "Want to get some breakfast before the rest of them get up?"

"Yeah," I said, grateful that she had dropped the subject so gracefully, "Thanks."

Before we left for the Great Hall, I ran upstairs to quickly wash my face and brush my hair and teeth. We saw no other Gryffindors of our age at breakfast, and hardly anyone younger. Hermione and I spent almost an hour eating and talking in peace.

Hermione asked me how classes were going, "Farmhs ih zellf,"I said through a mouthful of oatmeal. I swallowed and repeated, "Charms is hell. But I'll get through it." I explained to her my theory of green magic and it's tendency to clash with charm work. "Trees just stay put. That's the end of it."

At about eight the Hall started to fill up. Hermione mentioned wanting to get to village early, so we both headed back to Gryffindor Tower. Back at the dorm, I showered, fixed my hair, and dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, and picked out a coat and scarf for the trip to the village. I still had about fifteen minutes before we were all due to leave for Hogsmeade, so I grabbed my extra clothing and some gold, and headed downstairs for the fireside couch.

"Hi, Sophie," a male voice behind me said. I turned to look over the back of the couch, and heat not from the fire rose in my face.

"Hi, Seamus," I said.

"Mind if I sit down for a bit?" he asked.

I shook my head and smiled. He sat down next to me; our legs were touching.

"I really wanted to go with you today," he said.

"Me too," I said. "But there will be other weekends, I'm sure."

"Yeah." His hands were in his lap; he scratched his wrist.

"You really should pay attention in Charms," I teased.

"You really should try not to distract me," he replied.

I raised my hand to my mouth in dramatized shock. "_Me?_ I did no such thing," I said coyly.

He laughed; I smiled. He looked at his watch. "I guess I better get to detention._ Bright and early, Mr. Finnigan," _he mimicked. He looked at me for a second--his brows furrowed slightly, then he leaned over and kissed my cheek, "Bye, Sophie." I blushed. He stood and crossed to the portrait hole, "Have fun at Hogsmeade." He left.

Someone coughed. "Ready to go?"

I turned, Hermione, Harry, and Neville were standing a few feet behind the couch. Harry had spoken; Hermione hid a grin behind her hand. Neville examined a stray thread in his sweater carefully.

"Yeah. Let's head out," I said.

"Ron's still eating breakfast," said Hermione, "We have to grab him first."

Harry nudged me as we left the common room. "So, you and Seamus. That's so cute," he teased.

"Shove it, Harry," I said.

*

A short while later the five of us were walking on the dirt path to the village. The air outside was crisp and threatened to snow. I shivered, and buttoned up my coat.

Suddenly, a tree root popped up _out of nowhere_—of course, it did no such thing—and caught the toe of my right green tennis shoe. I stumbled and fell.

Ron's unrestrained laugh erupted into the chilly October morning air. Neville chuckled and tried to cover his amusement with a cough. "Hey now," I said, "It's not that funny. Help me up?"

Neville grinned and leaned down to pull me up off the ground. "Don't worry about it. I'm clumsy too," he said.

"Oh no," I said, "My shoe came untied." I bent down to lace it up again.

"Come on, Sophie. You are holding us up—ow!" Hermione elbowed Ron and muttered something in his ear.

"Hey, don't wait for me. We're nearly there anyway, I can see the village from here."

Ron turned and yelled out something about three broomsticks over his shoulder. Hermione frowned, but followed Ron and Harry into the village, leaving Neville and I on the path together.

"You take forever to tie your shoes, you know?"

"Both of my shoes have to be laced the same. I can't have one tighter than the other," I said as I started working on the second shoe, "If I retie one I have to retie both."

"That's neurotic," he said.

"My subconscious probably just wants some alone time with you," I joked, knowing he wouldn't take me seriously.

I looked back at him and caught his eye; he swallowed pretty hard, "_Alone time?_ What do you mean?"

I cocked my head at him slightly, staring up at him from the ground. "Come on Neville, I was just kidding." I held out my hand for him to help me up again. He took it and pulled me up. "Let's catch up to the dream team."

I took a few steps forward and felt a slight pressure around my fingers. I look down and saw my hand nestled neatly in Neville's. I caught his eye and glanced away, dropping his hand quickly.

"What was that?" I asked suddenly. I heard something whisper in the forest. A swishing sort of sound, like wind through tree branches.

"What was _what_?" Neville asked.

"There it is again," I said. The sound was coming from the left side of the path, I followed it up to the edge of the trees. I could almost make it out..."Don't you hear that?"

_Sophie_, it whispered, _Sophie..._

"What's going on?" Neville asked me.

_Sophie. _The words pulled at my chest, begging me to investigate. I wanted to walk straight into the forest. The trees needed me. They wanted me. I moved closer to the trees until I teetered on the edge of the path. I reached out a hand to touch the trunk of a giant fir--

"Sophie--" Neville's voice cautioned. I ignored it, hypnotized by the pull of the tree's aura.

I was so close now—one more inch and I would be with them...My necklace started buzzing violently and then--

"Ouch! _Mother_ _Theresa_--" I yanked my necklace out of my shirt. It was glowing bright yellow and humming loudly, vibrating in my hand. There was a little blood on it. I peeked inside my shirt, and there was blood on my chest too.

Neville suddenly yanked on my right arm and dragged me to the center of the path. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head. I watched in amazement as a stream of green magic circled around my necklace three times before sinking into the amber. Once inside the casing, the green magic disappeared. "My necklace bit me," I said simply. I rubbed my chest absentmindedly as I looked at my necklace.

He placed his left hand between my shoulder blades affectionately. "Are you alright now?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"What just happened?"

"I," I paused, "I don't know. It was like a kind of trance—I just wanted to talk to them. I couldn't stop--"

Neville pushed me gently forward to encourage me to start walking again. I found my pace and the village sprang up before us. "So, that necklace. It's very—unique."

"Do you think it's ugly or something?" I asked.

"Or something," he said. I shoved him.

"It's from my best friend--back home," I sighed, "He gave it to me just before I left." I grinned and decided to reveal Trek's identity. "His name is Trek," I said, "He's a tree."

As we continued to walk I told Neville about the grove, about Allah, about Fulk, and especially Trek. "Trek was in love with me," I said absentmindedly, "_Is_. Is in love with me."

"But he's a tree," Neville said slowly.

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean he isn't a person too," I said, "He _feels_ like humans do. He loves me." I sniffed, "I miss him—I didn't love him like he loved me, but..." My voice trembled; I couldn't finish my sentence.

Neville brought me to the door of a bar called, "The Three Broomsticks" and held the door open for me. We saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione at a booth—they all wore serious and frustrated faces, and were deep in conversation.

"That doesn't look like a lot of fun," I said, "Let's get our own booth."

We sat down at an empty booth in the back of the bar. A tall woman with curly brown brought us drinks.

"So, Neville, I was thinking--"

"Hi Neville!" I turned my head to the voice. A pale petite witch with long wavy blond hair and radish earrings stood next our booth. "Oh, hi Sophie," she added brightly.

"Hi Luna," Neville said politely, "How are you?"

"Marvelous," she said with a smile, "I got a letter form home today. Dad is off hunting burgemime truffles today—it's so exciting, really." She sat down next to Neville, "If only he had a short-snouted rufsniker to sniff them out for him, they would be so much easier to find! We'll need a fairly large crop of them to fight off the cold-midges this winter."

"Uh," Neville started, "That's great." He glanced at me. I shrugged.

"Well," she said, "I have a lot to do this weekend to start planning for the Christmas holiday—Dad and I are going having a party at the house—oh! You should come."

"Thanks Luna, but I'm staying with Gran and--"

"Silly, we have a fireplace, I'm sure she'd let you Floo in for just a little while." She laid her hand on his knee. Neville stared at it; so did I. "It'll be so much fun, you know." She pulled her hand back, "Well, I'm off." She smiled authentically at me, "Nice to see you, Sophie."

Neville watched Luna leave the bar. "She was flirting with you," I said stiffly.

He looked at me, "Was she?"

My stomach tightened, "It was so obvious, Nev." I glued a dreamy look on my face and mimicked her voice, _"It'll be so much fun, you know. Maybe you could sleep over..."_

"She didn't say that," he argued.

"Whatever," I replied coldly.

"Are you angry with me or something?" he asked.

"No. Why would I be?" I tried to calm myself down. Why was I getting so worked up over Luna's behavior. I took a deep breath and felt better. "So, do you like her?"

Neville shrugged. I frowned.

We finished our drinks in silence. I watched Katie Bell and her friend Leanne leave the bar, and soon after my cousin and his two best friends followed. After another warm drink I forgot about Luna flirting with my best friend, and I asked him to show me around the rest of the village.

With pockets relieved of their gold and filled with sweets instead, Neville and I headed back up the path to the castle. We turned a corner after a few minutes, and heard shouting. Clustered together on the side of the pathway was a group of students ahead of us yelling and pointing, and in the distance I saw Hagrid, running up the path to the castle at full speed, carrying a large bundle in his arms.


End file.
